We Go Together
by chrisspiration
Summary: Summer lovin' brings shy, new Kurt and McKinley's bad boy Blaine together to discover if love might be something worth fighting for.
1. It's Only the Beginning

The waves crashed against the shore, treading sand up, and down, a soft whooshing sound that completed the otherwise silent atmosphere of the beach. The last rays of sunlight still shone down on the sand from the horizon, orange and red and pink painting the clouds upon the sky, patient, slow.

There was a breeze; chilly and salty, the kind that brought the sea with it, that ruffled hair and clothes, and yet, still warm enough to cling onto the remnants of summer.

Strong arms encircled the taller boy's waist, a chin propped up on his shoulder, as they looked out into the sea, wishing they could stay like this forever. He brought his fingers down, splayed over the tan arms that were steadily holding onto him, caressing them gently, a sigh escaping his lips.

Lips turned inwards to press against the side of his neck, lingering, with a gust of warm breath. He turned his face up to look into the warm hazel eyes that he got lost in so often. "I'm going back to New York tomorrow," he whispered, turning around in the other man's arms, pressing their foreheads together, sharing breath, silky brown hair ruffling in the end of summer breeze. "Is this the end?"

"No," Blaine whispered back, shaking his head and bringing his hand up to move some of Kurt's hair out of his face gently, offering him a small, but warm smile. "It's only the beginning."


	2. Love is a Many Splendored Thing

Senior year.

It was all that every moment throughout high school had led up to—every friend made, every label, every relationship, every class. It all led up to senior year. That's what it was about, after all, wasn't it? One final chance to do something; one final chance to rule the school and be remembered for it.

The one final chance to _be somebody_.

And Blaine Anderson was ready.

"Anderson!" Snapping his head up, Blaine pushed his sunglasses down the slope of his nose halfway as he stepped out of his Dodge Challenger SRT8, smirk in place and a swing to his hips as he shut the door behind him.

Showtime.

Two pairs of arms jumped on him, clapping him on the back and shoulders as he leaned back against the cool metal of his door, sliding a cigarette from the inner pocket of his leather jacket, he propped it against his lower lip before he turned his head towards Mike's extended lighter.

Two drags and he grinned. "Good summer, boys?" he asked through a mouthful of cigarette.

Finn shrugged somewhat as Mike whistled under his breath. "Hudson's been on Modern Warfare since June," he pointed out, earning himself a shove.

"Shut up, Chang. At least I wasn't at _Asian Camp_," he shot back. Blaine swiped out a tube of gel from his pocket, squirting some onto his hand before he reached up to swipe his hair back until it was slick, and wiped his hand on his black pants.

"Where's Puck?" he drawled out. He took a look around the school parking lot for his best friend, over the heads of groups of girls chattering loudly, wearing as little clothing as possible (as was expected) while boys caught up with their girlfriends.

"Haven't seen him yet," Finn replied, checking himself out in the sideview mirror of Blaine's car, smoothing his own hair back before stopping as he spotted a familiar pair of glasses through the mirror. "Oh, there's Artie, man!"

Straightening up, Finn turned around alongside Mike to greet Artie as he wheeled himself over. "Sup, homeboy?" he called up, extending his hand out for a fistbump to Blaine, who returned it with a grin.

"My dick," he replied easily, picking his cigarette and fixing the three boys with a wolfish grin. "All summer."

The chorus of 'hey!' and 'woooooh!' that followed was drowned as the revving of a motorcycle boomed through the parking lot and swooped down towards them, sliding through the pavement until it rested next to Finn's old truck.

Puck stepped off, running a hand through his Mohawk and knocking his knuckle against the front of the bike. "Morning, boys."

"_Dude_."

"The fuck did you get that bike, man!"

Puck sighed through a grin, sauntering over to them and punching Blaine's shoulder in greeting before hopping onto the hood of his car to smirk down at them. "Bought it. Been working my ass off all summer cleaning pools so I could afford this baby," he said, nodding towards the bike Mike was currently running his hands over like it was gold.

"I'm gonna fix it up. Take it for a run against the Warblers this year."

That perked up Blaine's interest and he pushed his glasses up over his head as he surveyed the motorbike. "Smythe running again?" he asked, turning to glance at Puck, shielding his eyes with a hand over his brow.

"That douchebag's not gonna know what hit 'im," Puck replied instead, grinning and hopping off. He shouldered his own leather jacket and cracked his head to the side. "C'mon boys. We got a school to rule."

* * *

><p>'Welcome home, Titans!' Kurt read, as he bit down on his lower lip, hands folded in front of him, and stepped out of his car towards where students were already bustling their way into the building.<p>

He sighed. He hated being the new kid.

"Kurt!" a girl's voice screeched behind him, and he whipped around just in time for a mass of bright pink and yellow—oh, the horror—to slam into him, enveloping him in a warm hug. "I'm so glad I caught up with you. I was wondering if you'd be lost or if you'd know where to park and everything but here you are!"

Rachel Berry. Kurt smiled at her shyly. "Yes, I'm here," he replied, unsure of himself as he looked around, Rachel already having looped her arm through his and leading him towards the school grounds.

"I'm going to introduce you to all my friends," she announced excitedly, maneuvering her way around people with a hop in her step. It made Kurt feel a little jittery that they were attracting attention. Especially with the_ horrendous_ blouse Rachel was wearing (not that he was going to say anything; that was certainly not a way to make friends).

In fact, he only knew Rachel because he'd met her back in New York. They both attended a summer camp at NYADA (she wanted to in show business, like he did) and they'd bonded over Barbara Streisand and Wicked.

When he'd found out he was staying in L.A after all, he'd quickly shot off an email letting her know he'd be attending her school. It was a relief, really, to know somebody here. His mind wandered to soft shirts and warm kisses under the summer sun and wondered what he was doing now; where he was, what school he went to…

Kurt hadn't even gotten a chance to get his number, both figuring it'd be a summer fling, and hadn't been able to let him know he was staying.

"—a little wary with Quinn. She's great but can get a little scary if you get on her bad side," Rachel was babbling next to him, tugging him along towards where he could already see a group of girls off to a side of the main building, huddled under the shade of a tree.

"Right," Kurt agreed quietly, not sure what he was supposed to do with that and took a deep breath when they reached Rachel's friends.

The first thing that caught his eye was a head of bright pink hair under a cloud of smoke. His eyes widened somewhat as he took in the group of girls before him. The one smoking was wearing circular, dark shades and a black shirt that hung loose over her torso that read 'hell is so hot right now', and leaning casually against the tree with an expression that clearly said 'I don't give a fuck'.

"Girls!" Rachel quipped, tugging at Kurt's elbow as she steered him towards them. "This is my friend Kurt. He just moved here from _New York_."

A black girl with large golden hoops as earrings to his right arched an eyebrow at him and smiled a little. "Mercedes," she nodded, before turning back to where she was filing her nails, as the other integrant of their group, a blonde with a dumbstruck expression stared at him.

Kurt pressed his lips together. "Hi," he said quietly, looking around. Rachel stepped in again. "Kurt, this is Brittany," she said, motioning to the blonde, who kept staring for a moment, rendering him thoroughly uncomfortable.

She blinked. "Are you a unicorn?"

There was a moment of silence that passed between them as Kurt stared right back, torn between wariness of a prank, and confusion. He was, however, spared again as the girl with the pink hair spoke up from his left.

"That means she thinks you're pretty," she drawled, straightening up and taking another long drag of her cigarette before flicking the butt of it off to a side, looking at him up and down. Her voice had a raspy edge to it, and she had a nose ring that made him nervous being in her presence. "I'm Quinn."

"Nice to meet you," Kurt stammered out as a response, pressing his lips together and glancing at Rachel for support. "Are all of you seniors, too?"

Quinn smirked. "What, do we not look old enough?" she asked, and Kurt immediately regretted asking. "Let me put it this way, pretty-face." She stepped over to him, dragging behind a leather satchel which she clung onto with long, black fingernails.

"The Skanks are royalty at this shithole of a school," she said, voice still low, like it was a secret. "Find yourself lucky to have been dragged over here." And with that, she hooked her satchel over her shoulder and left without another word.

Kurt swallowed. "Did I do something to upset her?" he asked Rachel, who was sighing at the way Quinn had left, and quickly shook her head.

"Oh, no, no, don't worry about her. She had a…rough summer," she replied, reaching into her backpack—also pink—for her cellphone, checking something. "We do have to get to class, though! Mercedes, your nails are _fine_. C'mon, we don't want to end up with the front seats."

The blonde—Brittany—waved at Kurt with a smile before hopping off after Quinn, and he smiled back quietly. "I should go get checked in at registration," he finally decided, turning to Rachel. "I'll see you in class."

"I'll save you a seat!" Rachel promised, leaning in to squeeze Kurt's shoulder and kiss him on the cheek before tugging on Mercedes' arm and leading her towards the school building as well, along with the rest of the student body.

Sighing, and figuring it could have gone a lot worse, Kurt followed suit, quickly making his way towards the registration office as everybody went to their respective classes. Glancing around, he ducked inside and looked up at an elderly lady sitting at a desk. "Hello. I'm new here. I was wondering if you had a schedule for me? I'm not sure where to go."

The lady looked up with a warm smile. "Oh, are you, darling? Welcome to McKinley. Let me get you set up and then you can head straight to class!"

"Thank you," Kurt replied with a smile of his own, and sighed, glancing back towards the open door of the office. This was going to take some getting used to.


	3. Summer Nights

The bell for lunch rang, and the noise started up as students poured out of their classrooms to hurry towards the courtyard and pick the best table; Blaine swiped up Finn's pencil, flicking it at him before jumping off where he'd been sitting on his desk and headed towards the door, with his usual sway of the hips.

Puck was right behind him, and swung an arm over his shoulder, leaning heavily on him as he bumped his fist into Blaine's chest. "So. Tell us about your summer, man," he prompted, grinning over at the other three behind them. Finn, Artie and Mike cheered quickly, agreeing. "Spare no dirty details. I may not have a thing for cock but I can appreciate a good fuck like any other."

Smirking to himself, Blaine led the way outside, to where the sun was shining bright in the post-summer weather, sunglasses still in place. "I met a guy," he replied, shrugging somewhat. His face swarmed in his mind, still, bright blue eyes and an angelic complexion. There'd been laughter, kissing, soft touches on smooth, warm skin, and playful shoves into the waves.

Blinking himself out of it, Blaine turned around and flopped down his usual seat at the top of the bleachers, immediately feeling himself surrounded by the other guys. "You know. It was fun…." he trailed off, knowing he was being a jackass, and kept the smirk in place.

"Did you get some?" Puck asked, raising his eyebrows at him with a devilish grin.

Blaine scoffed. "_Dude_. Remember who you're talking to?" He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back on his elbows, letting himself enjoy the attention. "He was _crazy_ for me. Would've bent over the hood of my car if I asked."

A twinge of guilt made his stomach flip at his words, but he ignored it. He was back in New York. It wasn't like they were going to see each other again, or like his friends would find out the truth. It didn't matter. It couldn't matter.

The claps on the back and laughter around him encouraged him further. Artie had an excited spark in his eye. "Where'd you meet, yo? How come we can't get girls like that?" he asked around, clinging to Blaine's every word.

As usual, he thought, with a self-satisfied grin. "Malibu," he replied, shrugging him off. "My dad dumped me there for the summer."

"What was he like?" Mike asked, shifting on the bleachers to be able to look at Blaine properly as Puck swatted at the back of his head. "Chill on the gay, man."

"Sexiest little thing ever," Blaine replied, smiling, his face in his mind again, the way he'd looked flushed after being kissed, sleepy when it got too late, or with a dab of ice cream on his chin, which he'd wiped away. He shook his head to clear his mind. "Took him for a ride to the movies…" he let that hang there, knowing they'd take it the way he wanted them to, and wiggled his eyebrows.

Finn was the only one looking rather uncomfortable; only because, Blaine knew, he hadn't gotten any. Ever. "No need to brag, man."

"Oh, shut up, Hudson," Puck replied, shoving at him too before turning to Blaine. "So, was he…y'know. _Good_?"

Blaine pushed his sunglasses up to look at him for a moment without replying, then brought out another cigarette from his pocket, lighting it and puffing smoke into his face. "D'you think I'd have stayed with him if he hadn't been?" he replied instead. "What do you think, Puckerman?"

Puck shrugged him off and took out a cigarette for himself as Artie—who'd been carried up by Finn and Mike, wheelchair still on the ground—elbowed Blaine on the knee. "And he doesn't have any _friends_ to spare?" he asked meaningfully, much to Mike's amusement, who snorted into his hand.

"Just because you have a girlfriend, yo, doesn't mean the rest of us don't want a slice of pie, too!" Artie argued, put off by that. Blaine blew more smoke through his lips and licked them. "He went back to New York," he replied instead. "It was summer fling. Not a big deal. Good fuck and it's over, y'know?"

The other four nodded in agreement for a while, silence settling in before Finn spoke up. "So you're, y'know, over Smythe?"

Blaine snorted. "Don't be a jackass. I never even _liked_ him."

"That's not what you were saying when you were all over him in his Porsche last year," Mike muttered under his breath, and Blaine kicked up a boot-clad foot to his side, sending him tumbling down one of the bleachers' steps.

"Well, he's history. Now if you'll excuse me, I have better things to be doing than hanging around you idiots," Blaine muttered, pushing himself up from the bench and jumping down the remainder of the bleachers, rounding them until he was alone, and slumped against one of the metal poles.

Yeah, he missed him. He could've sworn he'd fallen in love over the summer. If that wasn't love, he didn't know what love was. But they couldn't stay together—he'd left, and Blaine had gone back to school where he _couldn't_ be a boy in love.

Trying to picture him in New York, going back to school there, with his old friends—who knew if he might already be chatting up some other guy right now—was impossible. To Blaine, he was sunshine, he was sand; he was the sound of waves hitting rocks, shrieks as they tumbled into shallow water and warm kisses under the stars.

It was pathetic. _He_ was being pathetic. Shaking his head at himself, Blaine spat out his cigarette and ground the heel of his shoe on it. Enough.

* * *

><p>"You guys are <em>not<em> going to believe what I just found out," Rachel shrieked as she approached the rest of the girls. Kurt had been dragged over by Brittany, who seemed to have deemed him worthy of sitting with them, and was now off to a side of the steps in the school courtyard, looking up at Rachel as she came over, face bright. "I got a role in Hairspray!"

Mercedes rolled her eyes at her. "I thought the school play this year was West Side Story?"

Rachel twirled around and sat down next to Kurt excitedly bobbing up and down. "_Yes_, it is, but Hairspray's an off-school production. Like, a big time thing. This could be _it_."

"Wait," Mercedes narrowed her eyes. "So, you're dropping out of school?"

Kurt raised his eyebrows and turned to Rachel, who was pursing her lips, deep in thought, before nodding. "Yes," she finally said, sighing. "It's what I've always wanted to do. Where's school going to get me if I want to be an actress? Trust me. I've been taking acting lessons all summer. This is the first step; next stop, Broadway."

The girls stared at her for a moment before shrugging and going back to their own lunches. Quinn was smoking off to the side, and snorted. "I can think of a thing or two I did better during my summer," she drawled, causing Rachel to huff somewhat.

"Who did you hook up with now?" she asked, half-irritated.

Quinn shrugged. "You don't' know him."

Mercedes groaned. "What is it with _everybody_ having summer flings? Why can't this girl get a guy for once? Even Brittany hooked up with that cute cashier from the ice cream shop at the docks." Rachel turned to Brittany with eyebrows raised. Kurt got the feeling she wasn't the smartest cookie around. Then Mercedes rounded on him. "I mean, what did _you_ do this summer?"

A rosy blush crept up to his cheeks, and he bit down on his lower lip, glancing at Quinn uncertainly, shifting before replying. "I…I met a boy."

There was a pause, in which Kurt felt heat flooding his face, and then he had the immediate attention of three girls. "_What_!" Rachel gasped, eyes shining as she looked up at him. "You didn't tell me about that! Where?"

"At the beach," Kurt replied, looking between Rachel's eyes bugging out of their sockets, Mercedes' dropped jaw and even Quinn was looking on interestedly, having pushed her sunglasses over her head and seemed to be assessing him like she clearly thought he wasn't the type. It made him want to prove her wrong.

He sat up a little straighter. "We had a thing," he continued, licking his lips as _his_ face came to mind again. "Just—just throughout the summer." They were still staring at him expectantly, which gave him a little more confidence, so he went on. "He was cute. Handsome, charming; the perfect gentleman."

Rachel made a soft noise and smiled at him eagerly; he smiled back automatically. "It was great," he said fondly, "We spent hours on the beach; he took me to see his house. We danced, and sung together. He sings. Really well," he added, to Rachel's expression. "We went to the karaoke bar a lot, and we had ice cream together…"

"How old was he?" Mercedes piped up, having forgotten about her bedazzled cellphone to watch him.

"Eighteen," Kurt replied, wistful. "He showed off all the time. Picked me up, raced me down the beach...it was perfect."

Brittany seemed engaged. "Was it love at first sight?" she asked, voice breathless, and Kurt blushed again, biting his lip, and shrugged a little. "I guess so," he whispered back. "It seemed like that."

"He sounds like a drag," Quinn commented from off to the side, smirking a little, and Kurt's face fell somewhat before Rachel waved her off. "Ignore her, tell me more."

Hesitantly, Kurt fiddled with the strap of his own bag. "I—I don't know; he was really sweet. He had the most gorgeous eyes; hazel. And he held my hand in the movies and…we kissed."

Mercedes giggled. "_Get_ it, boy!" she laughed, shaking her head at him. "So, where is he now?"

Kurt smiled sadly. "I don't know," he replied honestly. "I mean. He said he loved me, and I—me too, but it was going to be over. I was supposedly moving back to New York, and we just…decided it'd be better to end it. Let it be what it was, you know? Just a summer romance."

A silence filled the space between them before Brittany broke it. "Wait, so you're gay?"

"Oh my god, Britt," Quinn groaned. "_Look_ at him." Parting his lips a little, Kurt flicked his eyes off to a side, not wanting Quinn to notice how much that kind of insulted him, and stayed quiet instead, while Mercedes whispered something into her ear.

"It was no big deal," he added after a moment, taking a deep breath and trying to forget the way his hands had felt so right wrapped around his waist, holding him tight, or the way he could have spent days looking into his eyes, at that exquisite honey-green color, and let out the breath, nodding to himself. "It's over now."

Just like that, the bell rang again, signaling the end of lunch. The girls started to wrap up around him, Rachel tugging him up to his feet. "Crap," he suddenly remembered. "I have to go see the English teacher before class! I'll see you later," he told Rachel, who nodded.

Turning back to jump down the stairs, Kurt swung his satchel over his shoulder when a voice stopped him. "Kurt!" Mercedes called out behind him, and he looked over his shoulder as they caught up with him. "What was his name?" she asked meaningfully.

"Oh," Kurt said. "Blaine. Blaine Anderson."

Mercedes stopped walking beside him and he gave her a curious look before offering the girls a small smile and bounding off towards the English classroom.

"Oh my God," Mercedes muttered under her breath, and turned back to look at Quinn, who was staring after Kurt's disappearing frame with a look that spelled disbelief and something like a flash of anger. "Did you _know_ about this?"

"What do you think?" Quinn hissed, rolling her eyes as she shouldered her way past Brittany, then paused, thinking better of it, and turned around to face the other three girls with a smirk set on her face. "Well," she decided. "Isn't _Kurt_ going to get a nice surprise this afternoon at the pep rally?"

Without another word, she turned around and walked off, leaving Rachel to turn to Mercedes with wide eyes. Brittany frowned at them. "Are we planning a party for him?"


	4. It's Raining on Prom Night

"Hello," Kurt said, turning to face the room of students in front of him, crossed his hands in front of him, and cleared his throat. "I'm Kurt Hummel and I'm going to audition with a personal favorite, 'Don't Cry For Me Argentina'."

The teacher—Mr. Shuester, he reminded himself—nodded at him with a beam and took a seat in a chair up front. "All right! Go for it, Kurt."

Taking a deep breath, Kurt waited until the opening chords of the song had played and started singing. If there was one thing he was comfortable doing, one thing he was proud of himself and that he knew he could do better than many people, it was singing. He let his voice flood the room, hitting the notes flawlessly. He would close his eyes and lift his hands up to emphasize a powerful moment; he finished amongst loud clapping coming from the students in front of him. Cheers and smiles, and he allowed himself to smile back.

"Great job!" Mr. Shuester called out, standing up and going over to pat Kurt on the back, squeezing his shoulder before turning to the rest of the Glee Club with raised eyebrows. "I think we all agree that you're welcome to New Directions!" he laughed.

Beaming proudly, Kurt stepped forward to take one of the empty seats, immediately leaning back against the chair and folding a leg over the other, setting his satchel next to his chair and let out a breath. Okay. He was part of something, now.

Mr. Shuester started speaking up front, about the upcoming Sectionals, and a motivational speech that Kurt was paying rapt attention to, when he felt a pair of eyes on him, and something to his right caught his eye. Turning his face away from the teacher, his eyes fell upon a blonde boy sitting not too far away.

The guy smiled when their eyes met, lips thick and nice, and nodded a little. Kurt's stomach flipped somewhat and he sat up a little straighter. The guy's smile widened. 'Hi', he mouthed. Kurt inhaled through his nose and allowed himself to return a tentative smile as his own lips curved over a 'hi' in return.

Glee was over half an hour later. Kurt bent over to gather his things, determinedly not thinking about the blonde to his right and hummed to himself quietly.

"Hey."

Looking up, mouth parted somewhat, he straightened up and lifted his face to see the same guy standing in front of him, shouldering a red backpack and sporting a blue shirt with a target painted on it over his chest. "Kurt, right?" the guy asked, tilting his head to the side before sticking out his hand. "I'm Sam. Sam I am, and I don't like green eggs and ham."

Kurt stared for a moment. Blinked. "Oh, sorry, hi," he quickly blurted out, taking his hand and shaking it a little before turning to clutch onto his books in front of his chest.

Sam grinned at him and shook his hair out of his eyes—a deep greenish brown—before taking a step back. "You're new," he pointed out, waiting for Kurt to come over, which he did, still blushing somewhat. "Where're you from?"

"New York," Kurt replied, walking out of the choir room with him, trying to remember which hallway his locker was at.

"What made you decide to stay?" Sam asked, glancing at him sideways as they turned a corner, students bustling out of after-school groups, getting ready for the pep rally at four—at the field, he remembered, behind the cafeteria.

He'd gotten that question nine times today. "It was my dad's decision," he said, looking around for the locker number he wanted. "We were here all summer and he met a woman, said she was 'the one' and we moved."

Sam frowned, and Kurt waited for the question he knew was already coming, 'what happened to your mom?' and opened his mouth to answer already, when Sam spoke up again. "I'll be sure to send her a bouquet of flowers, then," he piped up, turning around Kurt, winking at him, and moving towards the locker to their right. "I'll see you at the pep rally, Kurt."

Kurt stood there, staring after Sam for a moment before he remembered how to move his legs and quickly walked out of sight. He'd been flirting; he was sure of it. 'I'll send her a bouquet of flowers'? He bit his lip; it felt nice.

Somehow, he managed to find his locker relatively quickly, and opened it easily, stuffing all of his books and bag before he turned to the mirror he'd put up on the inside of his locker door, taking a look at himself to make sure his hair was still in place, reaching up to comb his fingers through it, letting it fall loosely over his forehead as usual and sighed.

"Kurt!" a girl's voice called out behind him, and he barely had time to jump, startled, before Rachel's hand was at his elbow. "C'mon! The pep rally's starting, and we need to get good seats!"

Allowing himself to smile, Kurt nodded and closed his locker. "Sure, let's go," he agreed, turning around as Rachel looped her arm through his again, leading him down the hallway. "So, what are pep rallys about? We didn't really have them at my old school."

Rachel looked up at him with raised eyebrows. "_Really?_ Oh, it's really fun. Basically, the whole school gets together, and the sports teams make appearances. There's a cheerleader number—don't talk to them, they're all snobs—and the sports coach makes a speech about what it's going to be like this year, and boosters, and everything. Personally, I would have plenty of ideas on how to make it much more titillating, because Coach Tanaka was _terrible_ with words, but I hear we have a new one this year, so everybody has their fingers crossed that it's someone decent, at last."

Through her speech, they'd made it out to the football field, where, sure enough, everybody had gathered. There was loud music playing through speakers across the grounds, and people with paint on their faces were running around, filling up the bleachers and whistles hooting in the distance. Rachel tugged on his elbow. "Come on," she whispered, and led him towards her group of friends.

The pep rally was everything Rachel had said it'd be. Even the cheerleaders' performance was spectacular, in Kurt's opinion, though he kept it to himself since all Mercedes did was whine about how it was the most classist, racist, ridiculous group of girls and boys in the world, and really, Madonna was a terrible choice for a song this early in the year, especially one like 4 Minutes.

Kurt kept his judgment silent with a quirked eyebrow and folded his hands over his lap as he tried to get excited about it.

It was starting to get dark outside, and Blaine was still draped over the hood of his car on his back, staring up into the evening sky with his hands folded over his stomach.

"_Dude_," Finn whined from somewhere off to his left. "How long is this shit, anyway? Why do we have to sit through it?"

Blaine closed his eyes, ignoring him; he really wasn't in the mood to deal with Finn's crap unless he had Puck to back him up—Puck, who'd gone to pick his motorcycle up over half an hour ago and still hadn't returned.

Mike beat him to the punch, anyway. "Puckerman wants to show off his ride to the Skanks, Hudson. We went over this during math."

"I was _sleeping_ during math."

"Well, stop being a douche and keep quiet."

"You're the one being a douche!"

There was shuffling from behind him as Mike probably tackled Finn—theory further proved correct as a yelp was held, and then grunts. "Alright!" Finn's voice cried out. Blaine peeked at them through an eye, watching as Finn straightened out his own leather jacket, lifting his hands up. "Chill, man."

He was going to go insane.

The rumbling of a motorcycle interrupted whatever it was Artie had been about to say and Blaine didn't think he'd ever been gladder to hear that noise. Sitting up, he swung his legs over the side of the car to lean back against the driver's door, arms folded over his chest as Puck roared his way in front of them.

"Took you long enough," Blaine grunted, pushing off his car to go over to the bike, and ran his hand down the metal side of it. It was slightly rusted, and the paint had worn off. "You planning on fixing up this piece of crap?"

"Hey," Puck replied, jumping off the vehicle and shoving at Blaine's shoulder a little. "You get yourself one of these and _then_ you can call it a piece of crap."

Blaine grinned at him and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, nodding over at him. "So, spill. How many condoms did you stop to buy on your way here that we had to go through three cheerleader performances before your glorious face popped up?"

Puck's expression darkened. "Smythe was being an idiot outside the parking lot," he grumbled, as Finn came over to listen better. "Of course I beat the crap out of him and that slut he's dating now."

Blaine cocked an eyebrow. "He has a new boyfriend?"

"Girlfriend," Puck corrected him. "That Santana chick from Crawford." Blaine made a face of disgust at the name. Of course, it didn't help that Sebastian had cheated on him last year with that particular slut—he'd forgotten to mention he was _bi_ when he'd had his hand down Blaine's pants—and he rolled his eyes, patting Puck on the back.

"Forget about him, man," he said instead, shrugging and glancing over towards the football field, far away from where they were, at the edge of the school, behind the bleachers, as the noise started to die down. "Think it's over?" Artie mused out loud.

Finn let out a breath through his lips. "Better be." He paused and bit his lip before turning to Puck. "We still going to Fabray's later on tonight?"

Subtle, Blaine thought, not being able to help letting out a soft chuckle under his breath. Finn had it bad for the theatre-obsessed girl in the Skanks, Rachel. Not that she was that bad, he had to admit, but rather annoying.

Of course, thinking about Rachel led him to think about _him._ He liked theatre. He liked singing. He'd had a voice that sounded like sleigh bells and laughter and warmth.

"Anderson."

He snapped his face back up. "What?"

Puck was staring at him. "What's up with you lately, man? I asked if you were coming." Blaine shrugged him off and made a half-hearted motion with his hand. "Yeah, sure."

Kurt huffed out a breath as Mercedes tugged him by the elbow with a giggle, the rest of the girls surrounding them as they walked around the bleachers they'd been sitting at. "I don't understand where we're going!" he laughed a little.

Rachel beamed and squeezed his forearm. "It's a surprise!" she said, for the third time, walking backwards in front of him as she brushed his hair off to a side and fixed the collar of his shirt. Brittany, who also seemed to know what was going on, giggled and undid the first two buttons of his shirt, making him gasp a little.

"Brittany!" he hissed, blushing and trying to button them up again, but Quinn stepped in out of nowhere and batted his hand away, smirking up at him.

"Let it be," she told him, her voice still raspy, still intimidating, and Kurt blinked up at her. She grinned, patting his cheek. "You're just gonna _love_ this."

From what he could see around the three girls in front of him, Mercedes still pushing at his back, there were three cars parked over to a side of the road, and a group of boys. He caught the glimpse of a wheelchair and frowned, confused. "What's-?"

Quinn sauntered away from their group and towards the guys. "Hey, Anderson!" she shouted over the wind that had picked up. "We have a surprise for you."

Then Rachel and Brittany cleared his path and Mercedes pushed him forward, causing Kurt to stumble a little on the grass, and barely had time to gather himself, breathing out a 'what' again before his eyes had settled on somebody suddenly standing in front of him.

Blaine's eyes widened.

Kurt's jaw dropped.

"_Kurt?_"

"Blaine!"

"Oh my god!" Blaine cried out, half-laughing as his face lit up, and Kurt let out a surprised noise as well, feeling all of a sudden breathless and giddy. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going back to New York! I can't believe—"

"_Anderson_?" another boy's voice broke out from behind him, clearing his throat, and Kurt couldn't even look away to see who had spoken because _Blaine was here_ and then suddenly Blaine had frozen, visibly stiffened, and relaxed his shoulders back to slump a little, cocking his hip to a side.

Blaine was wearing a leather jacket, Kurt noted absentmindedly, before the other boy was smirking at him. Not smiling, _smirking_. "Hey, babe," he drawled out. "Didn't have to crawl across the country for me, you know?"

Kurt froze as well. "What?"

"I mean, I know you dig me and everything," Blaine kept speaking, as a guy behind him snickered, and he glanced around his friends, laughing along with them. "But you don't have to take such drastic measures. You just had to ask, sweetheart."

"Blaine, what…?" Kurt whispered again, shaking his head, face falling into confusion, then a little disappointment. "What's going on? Why are you acting like this?" he asked, frowning.

Blaine laughed again, loud and unlike him, visibly _mocking him_ as a mohawked boy reached over to bump his fist with his. "What d'you mean what's going on?" he returned, not really looking at Kurt in the eye as he spoke, and ran a hand through his hair, which was slickened back.

Kurt remembered curls; free and wild and falling rather adorably over his forehead. Curls he'd brushed back and snuck kisses to the skin underneath at the nape of his neck.

"This is me, babe," Blaine continued speaking. "Missed me?"

A whoosh of breath left his lips, and Kurt shook his head, feeling his throat tighten as humiliation burned deep inside his chest, bubbling its way up to the surface, and he swallowed, tilting his chin up despite the stinging in his eyes. "Miss you?" he breathed out, voice stony, cold. "I don't even _know_ you."

Glaring at Blaine hard—at the hazel eyes that had haunted his dreams ever since they'd parted with a kiss at the beach—he pursed his lips and turned away, brushing past Quinn, who was looking smug about something, and around the cars parked there, quickening his pace as he felt his eyes glaze over. He couldn't cry. Not in front of him.

And he didn't.


	5. Look at Me

Kurt blew his nose into a tissue for the fifteenth time, rubbing at it, nose already a bright shade of red from having been crying for the better part of the past hour. He sniffed, smiling sadly up at Rachel, "Thank you," he said quietly, voice coming out rather nasally.

Rachel pressed her lips together and reached over to rub his back a little. "It'll be okay," she told him again, her voice filled with pity. He knew he was a mess right now, and would have been more embarrassed about it if he weren't so distraught.

"I just wasn't expecting—he wasn't like that," he kept muttering under his breath, as Rachel patted his shoulder. "I don't understand why he's acting like this."

Mercedes looked up from where she'd been texting somebody to give him a once over. After the fiasco at the parking lot, Rachel had invited him to the sleepover they were having at her house later on, and he'd agreed, mostly out of self-pity and under the promise of watching Evita. He was slumped on a pink armchair next to a window, a growing pile of tissues on the table next to him and Rachel to his side, handing more to him as he needed them.

"Don't worry," she finally told him, as if making her resolve. "You'll get over him. Blaine Anderson isn't somebody you want to pine after. Trust me. I _know_ him."

Kurt nodded a little, even though he wanted to shake his head, whine, and protest that she _didn't_ know him. That _he_ knew Blaine and it was the boy he'd fallen in love with over the summer. Not this fake, horrible thing that had greeted him tonight. "Thank you, Rachel," he offered again with a soft smile.

Quinn came through the door at that moment, clad in only a black slip, her pink hair clashing horribly with the rest of the room, not that he was going to point that out either, and smirked at him. He wanted to slap her. She'd _known_. "You're better off," Quinn called over her shoulder at him. "He's not worth anybody's time."

Brittany, who had been trying on different wigs in front of a mirror, and was currently wearing a pair of mouse ears, turned around in her chair to stare at Quinn. "Wait, but I thought he was your boyfriend before."

The glare she received could have set a forest on fire, and Kurt cocked an eyebrow, narrowing his eyes slightly as he turned his gaze back on Quinn. Mercedes had stopped texting but wasn't looking up, as if waiting to listen to Quinn's response.

"I thought we'd agreed _not_ to talk about that, Brittany," she replied, false sweetness trailing in her voice.

Rachel looked torn and muttered something under her breath before disappearing into the bathroom. Kurt, however, took a deep breath. "But Blaine's _gay_," he pointed out quietly, looking at Quinn curiously.

She snapped her face to look at him. "Yes, he _realized_ that last year."

"Quinn wanted to have sex with him but he couldn't get it up," Brittany supplied helpfully, nodding at Kurt. "They were together for almost a year before that."

"_Brittany_!" Quinn exclaimed, her face flushed and obviously embarrassed. "Private information? Don't just go around sharing those kinds of things! Jesus!"

Kurt sniffed back a little through a small chuckle, shaking his head and trying to ignore the painful jolt he felt at the thought of Blaine doing anything like_ that_ with someone else. "Quinn, it's okay," he said softly, smiling tentatively at her, even as she fell back against the large bed in the middle and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, sticking one in her mouth. "These things happen. You don't have to be embarrassed."

She didn't even look up at him. "Shut up, Hummel, before I change my mind on whether I want you hanging out with us or not," she grumbled, sighing and stretching her hand out to him, sitting up against the headboard, "Cigarette?"

He opened and closed his mouth, shaking his head. "N-no, thank you. I don't smoke."

Quinn looked at him like she was trying to figure out if he was human. "Don't be ridiculous," she laughed quietly. "Smoking is the reason people stand school. Come on, just have one."

"I really don't think—"

"Are you _really_ such a prude, Kurt?"

Stopping mid-sentence, Kurt eyed the packet of cigarettes almost as if it was teasing him and pressed his lips together before he reached out and took one, letting Quinn light it for him before nearing it to his lips, ignoring the way his stomach flipped nervously. "Just take a drag," Quinn told him from off to his left, and taking a deep breath, Kurt placed it between his lips and inhaled.

Smoke filled his mouth and throat and suddenly he couldn't breathe and his eyes teared up as he choked, coughing and all but spitting the cigarette onto his hand, holding it away from his face as he kept coughing.

"Whoops," Quinn mumbled, "Forgot to mention you have to draw back so that doesn't happen."

Rachel emerged from the bathroom at that moment, and bit her lip as she watched Kurt cough on cigarette smoke. "Are you okay?" she asked, somewhat nervously.

Kurt swallowed, fighting back the annoyance at Quinn and everything and took a deep breath, still feeling an acrid, rough taste in his throat that he tried to swallow back as well as he nodded and stood up. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I'm—I'm not feeling too well, to be honest. Can I use your bathroom?"

Rachel nodded again and stepped aside, allowing Kurt to fall into it, closing the door behind him and sighing deeply. The mirror over the sink seemed to taunt him; he didn't _belong_ here. Dressed in his Marc Jacobs dark blue silk pajamas, hair neatly combed over his forehead, pale, and eyes red from having been crying and choking. He dropped his gaze from the mirror.

In the bedroom, Quinn had wrapped one of Kurt's scarves around her neck and was kneeling on the bed in front of the other three girls. "Look at me," she taunted, voice forcibly high pitched and pushing her fingertip against the tip of her nose upwards. "I'm Kurt and I don't smoke and I don't drink and I'm a widdle-dee little virgin who can't handle a real man."

Mercedes snickered off to a side and Rachel pressed her lips together. "Quinn…" she sighed. The other girl jumped off the bed and pouted at her. "What?" she taunted, "Defending his _honor?_ He's doing a very good job of that himself, honey."

She smirked to herself and dabbed some lipstick onto her mouth, voice still forcibly high. "And look at that! I just have to put some lipstick on and I'm already a _girl_," she laughed, batting her eyelashes at Rachel. "No wonder Blaine Anderson got over me so fast."

Brittany laughed at that, and Rachel hung to a side, as if unsure whether she should be laughing or not. "I'm from New _York!"_ Quinn cried out, flipping the scarf over her shoulder. "That's not how we do things in the big city!"

Kurt cracked open the bathroom door. Having heard his name, he'd pressed his ear to the door and listened in. His throat felt uncomfortably tight and embarrassment burned fierce, blood pounding in his ears as he peered out to see Quinn prancing around Brittany wearing one of his scarves. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out.

"Quinn," Rachel warned, and the pink-haired girl stopped, turning around to look up at Kurt, and set her jaw straight. "_What?_" she asked him, voice going back to normal.

Swallowing, Kurt carefully picked up his iPod and headphones from a bedside table and walked over to Quinn, heart beating in his chest. "That's not how I wear scarves," he said quietly, reaching up and arranging it properly around her neck before he stepped aside—"Excuse me"—and left the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him.

* * *

><p>The leering started as soon as Kurt turned around.<p>

Blaine was still staring off after his figure when Puck jumped on him from behind, patting his back roughly. "_Dude_," he emphasized, nodding after Kurt. "The fuck, man? Was that him? Why didn't you invite him over? You could have had another _summer night_ in the back of your car."

They all laughed, except for Finn, who was looking back and forth from Kurt leaving and Blaine's guilty expression. "Kurt!" he asked him, moving around him to shove at Blaine's shoulder a little. "Are you kidding me?"

That snapped Blaine out of it, at least for the moment, and he glared up at Finn. "What, Hudson? Not good enough for you?" he snapped, shouldering his leather jacket and turning around to walk back to his car, suddenly pissed off.

"No." Finn was right on his tail, "He's the son of the guy my mom's been dating all summer. I can't believe you didn't tell us his name. I knew he was here the whole time."

Blaine stopped and turned to stare at him, clenching his jaw, his stomach lifting a little that Finn wasn't berating him for it or anything. Then he caught a glimpse of Puck's eyes over Finn's shoulder and he shrugged. "Don't care," he muttered. "I said we were through."

And with that, he unlocked his car, stepped into the driver's seat, and closed the door behind him, sighing out.

The flash of pain, disappointment, _betrayal_ on Kurt's eyes danced behind his eyelids, and he wanted to beat himself up. He'd be lying if he said he didn't know what had come over him. He had a _reputation_ to maintain. Had to be _cool_ in front of his friends. He hated the word. He hated the implications, and the fact that it made him _phony._

But it was true.

And now Kurt probably never wanted to talk to him again.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath, slamming the heel of his hand against the steering wheel and starting the car. Blaine backed out off the grass and was about to drive off when Puck jumped over to rap at the passenger side window. Feeling irrational anger towards his friend, Blaine considered driving off, but rolled it down instead, raising his eyebrows at him.

Puck frowned. "You okay, man? Listen, if I was out of line…" he trailed off, as if unsure what to say, and ran his hand through his Mohawk.

"It's cool," Blaine said quickly, shrugging it off, "Like I said, I don't care."

"Right," Puck nodded, and tapped his palms against the edge of Blaine's door. "Well, hey, man. We're heading to Fabray's right now. The Skanks are having a sleepover there and…" he smirked at him and wiggled his eyebrows. "You know what that means."

Blaine resisted the urge to roll his eyes and smirked back, "Lingerie and boobs. Sounds _fascinating_ to me, Puckerman."

"Come on, Anderson That Kurt dude's gonna be there." Behind Puck, the rest of the girls were leaving as well; Rachel had followed Kurt out immediately, so Finn was hanging awkwardly next to Mike, attempting to chat up Brittany Pierce, and Artie was wheeling himself over.

He hated the fact that he already knew his answer as soon as Puck's words were out of his mouth. He forced a sigh to come out of his mouth anyway. "Get on your bike, jackass, I'll back you."

Puck grinned at him and tapped the hood of his car as he jumped over and slid across it towards his motorbike, yelling at the rest of the guys to come on before he roared the engine to life and sped out of the parking lot, Blaine at his heels.

They took a detour to a gas station so they'd give the girls time to get there and settle down, and hopped off their respective vehicles to buy some cigarettes. Mike slung an arm around Blaine's shoulders as they got their purchases. "You gotta share, dude. I thought your loverboy had gone back to New York?"

Blaine shrugged him off. "Did it look like I managed to gather that information back then, Chang?" he muttered, his mouth wrapped around a cigarette, tilting his face over to Puck so he could light it for him. He took a drag and dangled it from the tips of his fingers.

"His dad opened up a business," Finn spoke up from beside them, leaning against the shop store and grabbing a cigarette for himself, all of them blatantly ignoring the 'no smoking' signs everywhere, "Car shop. My mom still thinks he stayed because of her, though."

"What?" Artie asked, shrugging his leather jacket off and slinging it around the back of his wheelchair. "They married, or what? I thought your mom was single."

Puck snorted. "Bet you knew all about that, didn't you, Abrams?" he snickered, and even Blaine had to smirk behind his cloud of smoke. Artie rolled himself into Puck's knee. "Fuck, ow."

Finn looked disturbed, and glanced at his watch. "Ready to go?" he looked around them, a slightly hopeful expression on his face.

"Why, you can't keep it in your pants any longer?" Blaine muttered, inhaling some more smoke and blowing it out through his lips to the side. "Not like Berry's gonna let it get anywhere near her," he added, causing Puck to snicker.

"Shut up," Finn muttered. "She's not a prude."

"Is that why she's a virgin, then?" Mike piped up, backing off the sidewalk with a grin, so Finn wouldn't whack him on the face.

"She's not," Finn returned, a touch bitterly, mostly embarrassed, as his face burned bright red. "St. James nailed her last year."

Puck raised his eyebrows but didn't comment. After a while of silence, in which each of them minded their own business, he pushed off the wall and tossed the butt of his cigarette on the ground, stepping on it and making his way over to his motorcycle. "Let's go," he announced.


End file.
